


Don't Panic, Kiss Me!

by KatieComma



Category: Scar Tissue - Samantha Simard
Genre: Car Sex, First Kiss, First Time Together, M/M, PTSD mentioned, Panic Attack Stopped With Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:09:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24247036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieComma/pseuds/KatieComma
Summary: Set Post Chapter Six of Scar Tissue (right after the baseball game and car chase)When the adrenaline of the car chase wears off and they're done talking to the police, the rising tide of panic floods Jim's body again.It's ok, Bash is there to help. ;)
Relationships: Jim Wolfe/Sebastian Codreanu
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	Don't Panic, Kiss Me!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlackVultures](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackVultures/gifts).



> Thank you Sammy for writing one of my favourite book series' EVER!!!!!
> 
> Now that I've read both books I feel like I have a handle on Bash and Wolfe as characters now, and this scene popped into my head after reading the car chase. So here you are!

Wolfe pulled the Mustang to a stop on a dark side street a few blocks from Bash’s house. His breaths came rushed. Now that they were done talking to the police, and the adrenaline was fading, his panic returned. The PTSD that had been nagging and poking at him when they’d gotten into the car at the ballpark returned.

“Are you ok, Jim?” Bash’s voice was calm but concerned. Just the way he’d been at the park when Wolfe had come back from chasing the suspect.

The suspect. Just the thought of her face and the place and time it brought him back to made his scars itch and ache and feel stretched tight.

Wolfe closed his eyes and breathed deep, laying his head back against the headrest.

He heard the familiar heavy sound of the gun Bash had taken from the glove box. Bash checked it, put the safety on, and put it away again.

The thought of Bash competently grabbing the gun from its hiding place and preparing to use it... leaning out the window and firing off shots. That thought sent another rush of sensation and emotion through Wolfe, but it wasn’t bad.

“Jim?” Bash’s voice was harder this time. “I asked you a question.”

Wolfe’s eyes were still closed, his hands gripping tightly at his own thighs.

And then the cool, soothing feeling of fingers on his cheek and the side of his throat lulled him. It should have felt like a threat, but he knew they were Bash’s hands. Bash’s poor twisted, beautiful hands.

He let those hands turn his face until he faced the passenger’s seat.

He felt Bash’s breath on his face. It smelled like the saccharine soda he’d drank at the game.

Wolfe opened his eyes and looked into bright blue eyes that almost glowed in the dark, from behind a curtain of black hair that framed a face full of sharp corners and danger but vulnerability too.

Those perfect, round blue eyes lost a little worry, and then darted down to Wolfe's lips, the thick black eyelashes splayed on the high perfect cheekbones.

Bash’s hands were still on Wolfe's skin, grounding him, calming him, and his breath steadied.

Wolfe put a hand to Bash’s cheek, thumb rubbing at the skin.

Bash took in a sharp breath and let his eyes roll up in his head for a moment.

“I’m ok,” Wolfe said. “You make it ok.”

Bash’s eyes opened again, his face a battleground of emotions: worry to relief to excitement to a deep caring Wolfe didn’t feel worthy of.

And then Bash leaned forward, using the fingers curled around the back of Wolfe’s neck to pull him closer and they were kissing.

Bash’s lips were soft and the taste of his soda still lingered on them. Wolfe breathed deep and sucked in the intoxicating smell of Bash’s cologne, a scent that had been haunting his fantasies and dreams for longer than he’d like to admit.

Their tongues met, and the wet slick sensation shot all the way down Wolfe’s body to make him hard immediately. It was real. He was kissing Bash and it was better than he’d thought.

They stayed like that for what seemed like maybe seconds or hours to Wolfe. They explored each other, mouths open, hands staying on faces and throats and shoulders, never wandering lower. Bash made wonderful little noises when Wolfe’s fingers made their way into his hair. So he kept doing it, wanting nothing more than to draw those noises out of him forever.

Bash broke off, but he didn’t sit back, he spoke against Wolfe’s wet mouth. “Come here,” his accented voice barked in the quiet of the car. “Come here. Come here.” His hands moved further down Wolfe’s body, grabbing at his shoulder, then his ribs, and finally his hip. The beautiful twisted hands grabbed at Wolfe’s t-shirt and pulled hard, desperate.

Wolfe obeyed, spurred on by the obvious want in Bash. He crawled over the centre console and into Bash’s lap, straddling his legs. There wasn’t room for his tall frame, so he pressed against Bash while he found the seat release and put the back of the seat down all the way.

Bash made a surprised sound as the seat flopped back, gripping Wolfe’s sides.

“Ok?” Wolfe asked, leaning down over Bash, their noses bumping lightly.

“Yeah,” Bash grunted and shimmied in the seat. “Wait a second. Just...” He grabbed Jim’s hips lightly and shifted them both at the same time until he groaned with satisfaction, closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the headrest.

Wolfe shifted a little more and pressed his hips down, feeling Bash’s erection through their jeans.

“Jesus Bash,” Wolfe said as he closed the space between their mouths again. It was sloppier this time, both of them desperate now as they rolled their hips together.

Bash broke their mouths apart and arched against Wolfe, his neck becoming a long beautiful curve interrupted by his Adam’s apple.

Wolfe licked at the skin of Bash’s throat, the sour burn of cologne on his tongue but he didn’t care. He sucked at the Adam’s apple and Bash arched again, moaning.

“I want more Jim,” Bash whined. “I need more.”

“You can have all of me,” Wolfe mumbled against his skin, nibbling and licking and kissing his way to Bash’s ear. “Whatever you want. But...” He sat up and looked down.

“But what, Jim?” The smile on Bash’s face made Wolfe melt; he had done that.

“But I don’t really know what I’m doing,” Wolfe admitted. “I’ve never really... I’ve always been attracted to men but I’ve never had the opportunity before.”

“You are doing very well,” Bash barked a little laugh, but it wasn’t cruel, it was charming and beautiful and kind and Wolfe wanted him so badly.

“I want more too,” Wolfe admitted in a whisper. “I want _you_ Bash.” Despite what they were doing it felt like an important confession.

Bash grabbed his shirt and pulled him down again, their kisses hard and fast and urgent. Wolfe growled into Bash’s mouth, feeling possessive and impossibly aroused.

Bash tipped his head away, and Wolfe licked at his earlobe.

“I need to tell you something,” Bash gasped at the feel of teeth nibbling his skin. “Before we do anything... more.”

“Tell me,” Wolfe whispered into his ear, continuing his attentions. “Anything Bash. Tell me.”

He pushed Wolfe up a little again so their eyes could meet. “I care about you Jim, very much. I think you care for me too. But I need to make sure we’re on the same page.”

Wolfe felt hot all over, his skin stretched thin, like a full body blush that tingled down to his toes. He took Bash’s beautiful face into his hands. His giant, callused thumbs and scarred hands looked monstrous next to such beauty. Bash’s blue eyes were wide and had lost all of their defences in his admission.

“Jim,” Bash said impatiently. “Please say something. I’m starting to feel foolish.”

“You’re not foolish. You’re beautiful,” Wolfe admitted in a hushed and awed whisper. “It distracted me.” He grinned down.

The tiniest flush of red flush alighted on Bash’s cheeks for just a second before it retreated again.

“And I care about you too,” Wolfe said. “I’m not looking for something casual. Despite how this all... happened.” He glanced over to the empty driver’s seat and his lust cleared a little for just a second when he realized just what they were doing. He frowned. “I think we should maybe... postpone this and start things more slowly.” He reached over to grab for the steering wheel for leverage so he could move back to the driver’s seat.

“Jim Wolfe if you don’t fucking make me come in this car right now I will be so angry with you,” Bash said as he latched onto Wolfe’s hips and held him tightly in place with surprising strength.

Wolfe fell back down onto Bash, curling himself over so his forehead pressed into Bash’s prominent collarbone, and he laughed. Any tension in his body bled out in his laughter. “I don’t even know if I could drive with how excited I am right now,” he admitted.

“Good,” Bash said proudly.

Wolfe dragged his nose up from Bash’s throat to his cheek and then they were kissing again. It was soft and sensual and promised many kisses to come. It felt like love, but Wolfe was afraid to name it that. Maybe he was too broken to love or be loved.

But then all thoughts were gone from his head when he felt hands on the button of his jeans. Once they were undone, Bash’s fingers started pushing at his pants and boxers, but he couldn’t quite get the job done with the angle. Wolfe reluctantly sat back to wiggle the pants and boxers down his hips just enough to pull himself free with no danger from the zipper on his jeans.

Bash sucked in a quick breath as he curled a hand around Wolfe and took a firm grip. The strokes were dry, but Wolfe didn’t care as fire travelled through his veins and lit him up with heat. He groaned and threw his head back only to hit it on the roof of the Mustang.

“Ow!” He shouted as he bent back over Bash instinctually and rubbed at the back of his head.

Bash had let him go and smiled up at him mischievously. “Poor baby,” he said softly.

“Your turn,” Wolfe said, returning what he hoped was just as mischievous a smile. He reached down between them, propping himself against the side of the car with his shoulder while he worked at Bash’s jeans. He opened the first button and found more underneath. “Really?” He raised an eyebrow at Bash, who was sitting back, hands behind his head. “What the hell is wrong with your jeans? It’s like a fucking chastity belt or something.”

Bash laughed, looking happier and more carefree than Wolfe thought he’d ever seen. “Designer jeans,” Bash said, “everyone thinks complication is fashionable.”

“I disagree,” Wolfe said as he let Bash take over, quickly unbuttoning the fly. He pressed up with his hips and Wolfe took the hint, taking his weight off of Bash so he could shimmy the jeans down enough that when Wolfe settled his weight back down they were skin to skin.

“Bash?” He said, closing his eyes.

“Yes, Jim?” Bash’s voice was rough, his breath quick.

“I’m gonna hit my head again I think,” Wolfe admitted.

Bash shook with laughter underneath him. But when he spoke his voice was serious. “Jim?”

“Yeah, Bash?”

“Come here.”

Wolfe opened his eyes and saw the hunger in Bash’s face, and in those impossible bright blue eyes. His eyes travelled further down and saw just how hard they both were. Their cocks looked so different next to each other. Bash was uncut, and that was definitely something that Wolfe wanted to explore more. But that moment was about immediacy and lust.

“Give me your hand,” Bash pulled at Wolfe’s wrist.

And Wolfe obeyed, letting his hand be pulled up to Bash's mouth, his lips wet from their kisses. He licked wet lines across Wolfe’s hand. It was somehow more intimate than kissing, and it tickled a little. Bash drew the wet hand back down between them until Wolfe understood. He slipped his fingers under Bash’s cock first, the hot soft skin felt scalding against his palm. With his thumb he took hold of himself and then they were pressed together. He let his weight settle down on top of Bash, worried a little for his weight when Bash seemed so fragile. But when Bash tensed and pushed up into Wolfe’s grip, his muscles pressed hard against Wolfe, which relaxed him.

The strokes started slow, but as Wolfe desperately panted against Bash’s cheek, and the smell of the man surrounded him, his hand sped up.

“Oh god, I’m not going to last,” Wolfe choked out against Bash’s hairline, his silky black hair tickling at Wolfe’s face.

“Me neither!” Bash shouted, heedless of anyone hearing them. His hands found Wolfe’s body, careful of the scarred places even in passion. He gripped hard at Wolfe’s good shoulder, fingers digging in, but his touches on the other side were soft caresses. “Dragul meu!” Bash shouted some Romanian that Wolfe didn’t understand, body arching.

Wolfe felt the come seep hot over his fingers and their bodies. The slide between them was suddenly too slick and too hot and too good and Wolfe came too.

He stroked them both through it, tightening his grip at the top the way he liked, drawing a beautiful shudder from Bash.

A noise out in the neighbourhood startled Wolfe, and he glanced up to find steamy windows. When he looked back down Bash was looking up at him with something like happiness that gave Wolfe butterflies.

“I can’t believe we did this here,” Wolfe said.

“It was perfect,” Bash said, bringing one of his twisted and beautiful hands up to trace the lines of Wolfe’s face, and poking lightly at his freckles.

Wolfe reached up with his clean hand and brought Bash’s hand to his mouth where he kissed each and every damaged and wonderful finger.

Bash reluctantly took his hand back and reached into the back seat for the box of Kleenex Wolfe kept there. He wiped them up efficiently before they both shimmied back into their jeans and buttoned and zipped back up. Wolfe leaned over Bash one more time, leaving chaste little kisses on his lips and then his cheeks and then his eyelids.

“What did you say?” Wolfe asked against his mouth.

“What?” Bash asked, that little flit of colour shimmering across his cheeks again.

“In Romanian,” Wolfe clarified. “What did you say?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Bash said with a raised eyebrow.

“Promise?” Wolfe asked with a smile.

Bash’s face went serious as he ran his fingers through Wolfe’s short hair. “I promise.” He glanced with reluctance toward the fogged up window and sighed. “I really should get home. Constantin will worry. As he always does.”

“I’m glad he does,” Wolfe said softly as he took Bash’s face in his hands and kissed him once more. This kiss was deep and passionate and another promise of things to come.

Wolfe pulled back and it felt like trying to pull two magnets apart when he tumbled back into the driver’s seat. He was drawn to Bash, now more than ever. He wanted to curl up with him in bed and fall asleep. He wanted to see what that black wonderful head of hair looked like fresh from sleep in the morning. He wanted so many things.

Bash grabbed the door handle and stopped. He turned quickly back toward Wolfe and kissed him again. “I have to go,” he said against Wolfe’s lips, like he was trying to convince himself.

“I know, I know,” Wolfe said.

Bash sat back, and his face got serious. “I’m not used to worrying about anyone, Jim,” he said. “I was worried about you tonight.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen to me,” Wolfe said. He reached over and tentatively put a hand to Bash’s cheek. After all they’d just done it felt like such an innocent gesture to feel strange about. Bash pressed into the touch. “Talk to you tomorrow?”

Bash nodded, his stubble rough against Wolfe’s palm. “Tomorrow.”

And then he was gone into the night, the door slamming behind him. Wolfe rolled down the windows and cranked the AC to clear the condensation.

“Helluva way to avoid a panic attack,” he said with a sigh as he pulled out into the street.


End file.
